


Tell Me You're With Me

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Fluff, Everyone Is Gay, Firefighters, Gay Poe Dameron, Gay Sex, M/M, Minor Violence, Racism, Religious Fanaticism, Slow Burn, Suburbia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suburban Stormpilot, FinnPoe AU. Written for a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Apartment

Finn stepped down off the bus and onto the curb, one hand gripping the strap of his bag, thrown over his shoulder, the other clutching a crumpled transfer. Over his arm was draped a heavy brown jacket with yellow reflective stripes shining in the sun. On one arm, the logo of an axe and a ladder crossed over a red bucket hat, could be seen. The bus pulled away with a roar and a wave of heat. He stood for a moment as traffic grumbled wearily on the street behind him. It was a gorgeous day, but too hot. Finn was sweating. The pale blue sky was dusted with thin brushes of cloud and the sun hung high. It wasn’t yet noon.

Finn gazed at the unfamiliar rows of houses that stretched in front of him. It was a far cry from the high-rises he had grown up in. He had never expected to end up in the suburbs. They always seemed so far away, the terrain of movies and television, and while many of the people he knew eventually moved there, it always seemed just out of reach. Growing up, Finn didn’t know any systems kids who made it into families in the burbs.

He knew he’d been lucky, landing himself a stable home with a room shared with only one other kid, regular meals and a smattering of support and attention. Only six kids in a home was virtually unheard of, and the Haltons were motivated by a fierce Christian ethic that they worked to instill in their charges. While Finn stayed with them, he dutifully attended church every Sunday, one of two Black kids in attendance, shirt pressed, shoes shined, and tie knotted. The downtown congregation was made up of mostly working class white families with a handful of older Eastern European residents who had immigrated to the neighbourhood in the late 80s. Finn always struggled to stay alert during the long services, sweating in the summer and shivering in the winter. His Sunday dress clothes were the best ones he owned, and held a special place in the rear of the closet he shared with his roommate Tyler. Finn and Tyler had been together with the Haltons since they were 7 years old. It was because of Tyler that Finn had later joined the Church of the Redeemer, and ultimately because of Tyler that he left.

Finn bit back the memory of that day, grinding his teeth in concentration. He willed the words of his counsellor to take shape in his mind. _Pause. Drop in. Focus on the breath. Focus on the ground beneath your feet, the chair or cushion you are seated on. Search for its connection to the ground, to the present. Remind yourself. You are here. You are not there. You are safe._

Finn was pulled back into the present by the heat of the sun, and the rumble of the street behind him. It wasn’t difficult to focus on the heavy army-style duffle slung over his shoulder, the sweat dripping down his forehead and sliding down his back.

He shifted the bag to his other shoulder and held the jacket in his hand. The transfer fell to the crisp, dried up stretch of grass below his feet. Finn began to walk, following in his head the directions he had looked up two days earlier at the public library downtown. After five minutes, his underarms were soaked, and he became increasingly self-conscious of how he had not showered in two days. He hadn’t liked the showers at the shelter, and while the YMCA was nearby, he hadn’t been able to make it in the hectic mess of the last two days. He didn’t want to show up at his new apartment, to meet his new landlord, smelling of stale sweat, but there was nothing for it now.

Finn stopped and double-checked the address. This was it. He stood on a street with rows of squat brick homes. Large windows were centred in the front, and they all had nearly identical front porches. The lawns varied, some completely brown, others covered in wood chips and shrubs, others containing shriveled remnants of hopeful spring gardening. In front of him stood the house. Nothing exciting distinguished it from the others, except for a large white mail box that stood on the porch, and a rusted bike locked to the railing. Finn wondered how he would be able to remember this was his new home.

The suburban street was starkly different than the compound in the distant countryside where Finn had spent the last six years of his life. He fought back a tide of homesickness, reminding himself, again, for what felt like the hundredth time, that that place was not and never had been his home. Finn strode up to the door, and pressed the bell.

A short few seconds passed before the door swung inwards. Behind the screened door stood a young woman around his age. Her hair was tied in a series of messy buns on top of her head, and strings of hair fell around her face, which was set in a suspicious scowl.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. My name is Finn, I’m here for the apartment?” The name still felt strange in his mouth. Good, but strange.

She stared at him, as if he had just asked her a particularly rude question. “You want the landlord. He’s the other buzzer.”

“Oh,” said Finn, “I didn’t –,” before he could finish, the door shut in his face. Finn stood in shock for a moment, then pressed the other button.

A moment later, the door opened again. A squat man stood in front of him, wearing round eyeglasses with thick lenses. His coveralls were stained with paint. He looked Finn up and down.

“You’re not what I pictured on the phone,” the man said gruffly.

Finn stared at him. “I get that a lot.”

The man shrugged. “The entrance is around back. You brought first and last?”

Finn confirmed this and when the man attempted to add a last minute damage deposit on top of this, he refused and casually dropped a threat to contact the landlord and tenant board, as per the instructions the young white social worker had given him at the shelter.

“Alright, alright, alright,” said the landlord. “First and last will do, but if you damage anything – if I find one nail out of place – I’ll be after you for what’s mine. That damn board has never stopped me.”

Finn raised his eyebrows as he handed over the wad of cash. The landlord presented him with a key, turned and left.

“Pleased to meet you as well,” muttered Finn under his breath. He walked down the cement steps and entered his new apartment. He walked around the entire unit in less than a minute. It was furnished with a faded but clean looking mattress in the far corner, under a small window that was mostly blocked by aggressive geraniums, a card table and chair in the sparse kitchen, and a small sofa. Finn deposited his duffel on the floor.

At least the apartment was cool.

Finn sat down on the mattress, rolled up the jacket and lay down, placing it under his head. It still smelled like smoke. Finn knew it could have been from any of a number of previous fires, but it still triggered a sudden return to that freezing February day a few months ago. The memories cascaded into his head, pulling him backwards.

 

***

He had woken that morning, suddenly, from a deep sleep. He had been dreaming again. It was the same dream, the one Brother Nehemiah told him he should report. Brother Nehemiah would not report him, and this he knew, only because they had been brothers since long before they had been chosen by the Church of the Redeemer. The guilt of harbouring this dream haunted him. It was always the same dream.

He had woken, catapulted into the chaos, and the smoke. There was so much smoke. He was so confused. His underclothes were damp with sweat, but he could not be sure if it was from the dream or if it was from the heat that seemed to swirl around him in waves. He threw off the sheets, struggling. His vision was hazy, and he realized it was because the room was filling rapidly with smoke. Instinctively he looked to Brother Nehemiah’s pallet across from his. It was empty.

He cried out, “Brother Nehemiah?” As he inhaled, harsh smoke filled his lungs and he doubled over coughing. Some distant early childhood education to stay near the floor during a fire told him he should stay low. His eyes burned from the smoke and he struggled to keep them open. He tried to call out again.

“Brother Nehemiah! Tyler! Tyler!” Now he could hear the voices of the others, shouting, crying out, the panic as thick as the dark smoke. He scrabbled across the floor, scraping his fingers on the rough wooden floor boards. Something collided with him.

“Brother!” cried the figure beside him, “We need to get out, now!”

“Tyler! Where is Tyler?” Even under the rising panic, the brother managed to scowl at him for referring to Tyler by his Pre-Redeemed birth name.

“I haven’t seen Brother Nehemiah, he must be outside already, come!” The figure grabbed his night shirt to pull him along. He pushed him away roughly.

“No! I have to find him! Tyler!” he struggled off in the opposite direction. The other brother did not follow him. He made to stand up, but inhaled another lungful of smoke, and fell to the floor, coughing. Only a few minutes had passed, but it seemed like an eternity. There was so much smoke, and heat came at him in thick waves, pulsing his rapidly beating heart.

Somehow, he had made his way to the south-facing stairwell. He glimpsed a red glow at the bottom of the stairs, sending noxious clouds of smoke up the stairwell and casting strange shadows on the wall.

“Tyler!” he croaked, his voice barely audibly over a roar that had filled his ears. “Tyler!”

He began coughing uncontrollably. His eyes were streaming, he couldn’t keep them open any longer. The roar of the flames below filled his head. A loud crack echoed up the stairwell, and the flames roared closer.

He dug his fingernails into the floor, desperately dragging himself back, back away from the flames, from the smoke, away from the smell of everything being consumed. Exhausted, he found he could barely move. He paused, thinking he would rest, just a moment, catch his breath. A voice in the back of his head told him if he stopped now, it would not be a moment, that this would be his end. He hoped Tyler had made it out of the building, and hoped Tyler would make it out of the compound. He swore then, whether he lived or died, this would be his last day with Redeemers.

His eyes were screwed shut, and each shallow breath was filled with so much smoke he choked and coughed. He lay there on the warm floor, trying his best to stop breathing. It seemed like he lay there for an eternity. The only sound was the roar of the fire, which seemed to be coming from all around him.

Like a dream, a pair of hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him up. Then he was floating, flying out of the room, down another set of stairs. All he could think was that he was dying, he was delirious, he must be dead.

The blast of frigid air that greeted him sobered him. He heard boots crunching on snow, screams, yells, sirens all piercing the air around him. He struggled to open his eyes.

The firefighter placed him down, carefully, on a snow-free stretch of asphalt. He struggled to take a breath, rubbing his eyes. The firefighter pulled off his helmet, dropping it to the ground.

“I need some oxygen over here!” the man called. His voice seemed so far away. The roar of the flames was still so loud in his ears. “Damnit, I’m going to grab it myself, don’t you move, you hear me?” The man stared into his eyes and he looked back. His eyes were a soft brown. He had a kind, laughing face, though it was creased with worry at the moment. His cheekbones were high and sharp, and his eyelashes were long and dark. He managed to nod.

The man stood, and unzipped his jacket. “Here,” he said, placing it around his shoulders, who hadn’t even realized he was shivering. It was still at least twenty below, and the shock of moving from extreme heat to cold had caused him to break into violent shivers. “What’s your name?”

He stared at him. He struggled to speak, “Brother Nain,” he croaked. The firefighter looked confused. He tried again, “Brother Nain,” but all that came out was a harsh whisper.

“I can’t quite make out what you said, but it sounded like Finn. I’m going to call you Finn, okay?” Finn nodded. “My name’s Poe,” said the man, “Poe Dameron.”


	2. The Walk

Finn woke up abruptly. He had fallen asleep on the mattress. The smell of smoke clung to the edges of his consciousness. He could barely close his eyes, even months later, without returning to the night of the fire.

He sat on the edge of the mattress. The apartment was dark, it seemed that the sun had set already. Finn wondered how long he’d slept for, and made a mental note to get a watch when he had the chance. He glanced up to the window and saw through the geraniums that the sky was still lined with fading streaks of colour. Finn felt overwhelmed by being alone in the apartment, and so he pushed himself up from the mattress, leaving the jacket behind, and pushed out the door, locking it behind him.

The street was quiet. There were more cars parked then there had been in the afternoon. Most of the driveways were now occupied. Finn set off down the street. In the back of his mind, he wondered how wise it would be to wander around at night in an unfamiliar neighbourhood, but moving his legs felt good.

He had taken to walking a lot the past few months. It was the one of the few ways he could deal with the whirlwind of thoughts that beat against the inside of his head. His counsellor at the shelter seemed to think walking to calm his anxiety was a “positive” coping strategy and had encouraged him. Finn just knew it felt good to move his body, to see the faces of strangers around him, to see unfamiliar buildings and storefronts. He didn’t realize how much he had longed to see an unfamiliar face after 5 years at the compound.

People downtown had stared, mostly at his jacket. It must have been strange to see a man wearing a firefighter’s jacket walking around the busy downtown streets in the middle of the day. Winter had sunk its claws deep into the month of March, and Finn had been constantly grateful for the warmth the jacket provided. He smiled, remembering how he had come to keep it.

***

Finn had been sitting on the asphalt, watching the compound burn in front of him. Enormous plumes of smoke billowed into the air. He had to narrow his eyes from the brightness of the flames. The firefighter named Poe with the kind eyes and shock of black hair had vanished, and Finn couldn’t remember when he had left or why.

Two paramedics appeared at his side. They spoke to him, but he couldn’t process their words. After a few minutes he was loaded onto a stretcher and placed in the back of an ambulance. The doors closed on the burning compound and the ambulance began to drive. He knew he would never return to that place again. Something stirred in him, reminding him about Tyler. He closed his eyes as the ambulance swayed back and forth.

Finn woke up later in the hospital. He’d been kept overnight for observation. A middle aged woman with large forehead was standing over him. She identified herself as his nurse, Becky, explaining what had happened, and asking him if he could answer some more of her questions.

“We don’t know your name. Can you tell us your name?”

“My name,” his voice sounded deep and gravelly. He tried to clear his throat and felt a flash of burning pain in his esophagus. “My name is Finn.”

The nurse told him was being treated with oxygen for smoke inhalation, but could probably be discharged later that day.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” She asked.

Finn thought for a long moment. Then: “To the city.”

She nodded. “Back South? Okay. Is there anyone we can call for you, dear?”

He shook his head. A few hours later, he was cleared for discharge. Becky returned with a bundle of his night clothes, what he had been wearing when he had been removed from the burning compound. They had been freshly laundered. With them she carried the jacket. Finn had nearly forgotten about it. He dressed and did up the jacket. The nurse had brought him a pair of gloves, a hat, and a second hand pair of boots. The boots were too big, but Finn was grateful. She had also looked up the address for a men’s shelter downtown and written it down for him with a map from the bus station. She squeezed his shoulder before he left and told him to take care.

As Finn stood before the elevator, the reality of what was happening hit him. He was overwhelmed with fear. He was on the burn unit, there must be other brothers here. They would be looking for him. Someone would see him. He would be questioned. Finn pulled the hat down further over his ears and pressed the button for the elevator again. Finally, the elevator arrived, discharging two nurses and a haggard looking man. Finn got in and hit the button for the lobby.

As the doors closed he felt like the walls were closing in around him. He struggled to take a deep breath like the nurse had instructed him to, in through his nose, holding it, and out through pursed lips. He took two deep breaths and the elevator reached the lobby.

He stepped out. He wanted to run and struggled to make himself walk normally.

“Buddy!”

Finn turned. Striding towards him was the firefighter. “Poe Dameron,” Finn whispered, in shock.

The man put both of his hands on his shoulders, hesitating for a moment and then pulled him into a tight hug. Finn could not remember when he had been held so tightly before. Finn coughed uncontrollably and the man released him, concern evident in his heavily-lidded brown eyes. Finn noticed the way he pushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Damn, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I lost you at the fire, I wasn’t sure what happened, no one seemed to remember seeing you…,” he trailed off.

Finn smiled. “Just got discharged,” he said hoarsely.

Poe grinned at him. Then, looking him up and down, he said, “My jacket…”

“Oh, right, here –,” said Finn, beginning to unzip the jacket.

“No, no, no. Keep it,” said Poe. He reached forward and zipped the jacket back up, a strange grin on his face. “It suits you.”

***

Wearing the jacket had drawn unwanted attention though, and it took some time for Finn to convince himself people didn’t know who he was. He had checked the newspapers himself, scrolling through the older editions at the public library, and while the fire at the Redeemers compound had made national front pages, there was no sign of him in any of the photographs. Aerial photographs seemed to be preferred, to give full scale to the devastation. According to the reports, the entire compound had been consumed by the flames, without a single structure left standing. The immolator had carefully created trails of gasoline leading to each compound building before setting himself aflame, or at least, that’s what the articles told him.

Finn’s counsellor at the shelter had seemed concerned when he revealed that he had been searching through old papers to find out what had happened at the compound. She thought it was important to not dwell on content that could trigger traumatic flashbacks. Finn didn’t find the articles triggering. He was fascinated by them. It was like reading a dramatic tabloid story about someone else’s life. _Three dead and twelve wounded by fire at “cult” compound in northeast of the province…Foul play suspected…Persistent rumours about forced fasting and limited contact with the outside world…The largest cult in the country, devastated by fire, but charismatic ringleader vows to re-build…_

Finn turned onto another street, nearly identical to the one he now called home. He came across a small park, lined with spindly oak and maple trees. Finn climbed a small hill and sat on the grass. He gazed up to the sky, where a handful of stars glittered dimly. It was the same as downtown. He could barely decipher a single constellation from the meagre night sky.

One of his favourite things about the compound had been the way the milky way was always visible, spreading itself across the sky above like a river. Whenever he had trouble sleeping and grew tired of praying over his pallet for the Father to forgive him his unclean mind and permit him to slip into a repentant sleep, he would go to the window in the north stairwell and gaze from the North star to Sirius to Orion’s belt to Taurus and Cassiopeia. Only Tyler knew how much he loved the stars, and he would never tell anyone about his late night stargazing. Finn was certain the Redeemers would think it was blasphemous to concern oneself with stars and constellations named by godless heathens after mythical idols, and would find some way to restrict his late night activity as soon as they caught wind of it.

Only a few days before the fire, Tyler had found him in the stairwell. Finn had been tracing Jupiter’s progress towards the horizon. Finn heard Tyler’s bare feet scuffling on the stairs.

“Couldn’t sleep again, brother?” Tyler whispered. Finn didn’t respond. Tyler joined him at the window. Finn leaned closer to him. Tyler had lost so much weight the past few months. He had been fasting, as instructed Brother Ephraim and Brother Solomon.

“You too?” Finn asked. Tyler didn’t respond either. “Do you remember that time we went up to Algonquin Park?” said Finn. Tyler was silent, and Finn knew he remembered, but he wanted to tell the story anyhow. “We had just met a couple of weeks before, and you were still so unsure about me. You didn’t believe we were the same age, because I was so much bigger than you. You were scrawny even then.” Finn could feel Tyler smiling. “The Aid Society took us with all those other boys. You were so scared of them all back then. I knew even then, I needed to protect you, so I made sure we got to share the same canoe. The portage almost did us in. The mosquitos were so thick. But that night, both of us saw the stars for what was probably the first time in our lives. Really saw them, you remember?”

“Yeah,” Tyler whispered. He was leaning against Finn. Finn felt a wave of concern for the man who was the only family he had and reached his arm around Tyler to support him. He was so thin. Finn helped him back up the stairs, and lay him on his pallet before settling back on his own. Tyler’s breathing became deep and even after a few moments, but Finn would lie awake until well after dawn broke.

Finn shuddered at the memories now. It was still so warm, and there wasn’t even a breeze to help evaporate the sweat beading his brow. The grass underneath him tickled the back of his neck.

Finn left the park, walking in the direction he thought would return him to the apartment, but instead found himself on a busier but vaguely familiar street. He suspected it was the same street where he had disembarked the bus, but everything looked different in the dark. He decided to walk in one direction, to see if he could recognize anything he may have unknowingly glimpsed from the bus window. He was uncomfortable feeling lost, but wanted to embrace the discomfort. He didn’t have anywhere to be, and knew he would find his way back eventually. Walking seemed to help keep the memories in their place anyway.

Cars cruised up and down the street. He passed a Vietnamese restaurant next to an adult video store and a used car lot. Next stood a row of new, modern townhomes. Beyond them he saw a small grocery store and a shop that claimed to sell only “exotic fish”. The opposite side of the street seemed more residential. One home advertised a tailor’s services, another was boarded up and slated for demolition. The homes were narrower and closer together than the ones on Finn’s new street.

Finn stopped at a light, waiting for it to change. A flashy Jaguar purred into the lane adjacent to him. Finn glanced at it, then did a double-take. The light changed, and the car roared away, pulling around and cutting off the Subaru beside it. In the drivers’ seat, Finn could have sworn, was the girl who had first opened the door to him that afternoon, with the suspicious scowl on her face.

Eventually Finn came to a large box store that he was certain he had passed on the bus earlier. Then he came to the street where he had disembarked, and headed down it towards his new home. He reached the squat building, unassuming on the quiet street. The entire house was in darkness, and Finn descended the steps into the empty basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such lovely feedback! I'm so excited about where this fic is going, can't wait for you to read it :)


	3. The Job

Finn cursed under his breath at the sluggish library computer. He had already been waiting at least 5 minutes for the document to send to the printer. Five minutes of his precious 30 minutes of free internet access. He had already used 15 minutes for job searching and nearly 10 downloading and scrutinizing his nearly blank resume.

“C’mon you stubborn jerk,” he growled at the screen. The downtown library computers had been much more equipped to handle heavy surfing, downloading and printing. Here, Finn was one of a handful of people on the computers. Most of the library patrons seemed to have brought their own computers or tablets from home, which now that Finn thought about it was probably further slowing down the connection on the ancient hunk of trash in front of him.

He still surprised himself with how quickly he had been able to pick back up his computer knowledge. His typing skills had hardly changed, and while technology had advanced a lot during the years he spent at the compound, he didn’t find it too challenging to readjust to life online. His social worker had been most impressed by this.

“Wow!” The early-twenties, perky white social worker had said, her hand on his shoulder as she examined his resume. “Who would have known you hadn’t seen a computer in 5 years?”

Finn shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I was raised with computers. Not a whole lot has changed.”

“I guess,” she said thoughtfully, adjusting his career objective statement to be increasingly vague, “I just can’t imagine what it was like, living in such stone age conditions, with no technology at all.”

Finn grunted noncommittally, shifting again so that the social worker removed her hand from his shoulder. “There, this should do it!” she said, finally satisfied, before telling him that with such a huge gap in his resume, his best bet was to apply for factory jobs in the suburbs.

Finn knew the real reason she suggested a factory job was because he was Black. Or maybe it was because of the ambiguously ethnic last name he had chosen to complete his official name change a month ago. When Finn attempted to answer her question about what fields he was interested in by talking about his passion for history and teaching, she told him he needed to think “practically” and proceeded to lecture him about the quickest way to get out of the shelter and off of welfare. Finn thought about reminding her that he was suffering from PTSD and was not on welfare, but was receiving disability support which she had helped him to apply for. He decided it wasn’t worth his time. He left the shelter without a job anyway, taking one of the first places that had been offered to him over the phone.

After only 10 minutes of job searching though, it seemed that the only openings that weren’t more than an hour commute away were factory jobs, and Finn did have a pre-made generic factory worker resume in his inbox already.

The library was smaller than the branch he had frequented downtown. It was two floors, crammed in between an auto repair shop and a row of dilapidated townhomes. The stacks were lackluster, but it seemed one could order books from another branch and get them at this location. Finn had already made a mental note to return with a copy of his lease to apply for a library card.

Finn used to spend hours in the library when he was younger. The branch had been halfway between his grade school and the Halton’s apartment. It was a concrete monster, intimidating from the outside, but inside featured two circular staircases that led to the children and youth section on the upper floor. Finn would always read books in the library, never signing them out. Once he worked through most of the children and youth section, he moved into the adult sections on the first floor. There, the volumes were dusty and less colourful, but they granted him access to worlds that swept him away from the loneliness that gnawed at him from somewhere deep inside. Later, he tried to bring Tyler to the library with him. Tyler wasn’t as interested in reading, but he would sit quietly near Finn, drawing in one of his flimsy notebooks.

Finally, the print window closed. He opened a new tab, and began to type into the window a name he had googled nearly every time he had sat behind a computer screen these past few months: Poe Dameron. As he waited for the window to load, his time expired, and the computer logged him out. Finn grabbed the printed resume and left. The search results always turned up empty anyway, and he was sure today wasn’t going to be any different.

The journey took only about 30 minutes, and Finn only had to transfer buses once. He determined he was northwest of his neighbourhood. The area was sparsely populated, and he was the only person who got off the bus at his stop. Squat warehouses lined the streets here, grey, black, brown. In the distance, Finn could hear the low rumble of cars and trucks on the freeway.

Upon entering one of the larger complexes, Finn was greeted by a sallow-faced receptionist. A bell rang on the door when he pushed it open, but the receptionist did not look up from her computer. Finn cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Yes?” said the woman, without looking up.

“I’m here about the production position?”

“You got a resume?” The woman looked up, her penciled eyebrows and tight bun accentuated the sharp angles of her face. Finn handed her the resume. She surveyed it with a blank look and dropped it onto a pile on her desk.

“When can you start?” She asked, staring at the screen again.

“I – what?”

“Tomorrow morning good?”

Finn stammered. “I – I don’t have any experience, but I learn fast –.”

“You got the job Mr. –,” she glanced at his resume, “Amah. When can you start? Tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow – I – yes, sure, thank you.”

“The training’s gonna start at 6, can you be here for 6?” Finn nodded. “Good. What kind of name is Amah anyway? You African? Isn’t that a city in Africa? I think I read a book about it once.”

“No –,” started Finn.

“Anyways, there’s lots of other Africans here, you’ll fit in well. Don’t forget, 6 tomorrow. Six in the morning. Don’t be late.”

Finn blinked at her. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything more. The woman had said all of this in a detached voice, while staring at the screen in front of her and glancing periodically at his resume. She looked up and seemed surprised to see him still standing there.

“You need something else?” Finn shook his head, turned and left.

***

The traffic was heavier on the commute back to his neighbourhood. Finn struggled to pay close attention to the route and carefully timed how long it took him. He guessed it would be faster earlier in the morning, but he still wasn’t sure about how regular the busses would be.

He disembarked in his neighbourhood. At a produce store he bought four big red mangoes, guessing they were some of the first of the season. He would have one for his breakfast in the morning. His stomach growled, so he walked into the Vietnamese restaurant next to the produce store and had rice with some greens, a fried egg, and grilled chicken. He washed it down with some iced tea. It was late afternoon, but the restaurant wasn’t busy yet.

The sun was still high in the sky when he had left, but was slowly beginning to dip towards the horizon. Finn didn’t have any other errands, and thought maybe he would spend some more time inspecting his new apartment. He had already begun to make a list of what he needed to get, but the list would just grow longer and longer until he got his first paycheque. He had used all of his disability cheque and the subsidy from the city’s streets-to-homes program for his first and last month’s rent.

Nearing the drive, Finn saw that the woman who had first opened the door the day before was coming out. He thought about the night before, when he was certain he had seen her behind the wheel of a car. There was no sign of the car now, and now that he saw her turning on the porch he began to doubt what he had seen the night before. She was wearing a wrinkled grey t-shirt and baggy jeans that were spotted with engine oil.

Finn hesitated at the end of the drive. The woman strode towards him.

“Hi,” she said. Her face was difficult to read, but it was absent of the scowl she wore the day before.

“Hi, how’s it going?” ventured Finn.

“Fine thanks,” she hesitated, as if debating something and then continued on her way.

Finn quickly walked back around the house to enter his unit.

Once he was inside he began to comb over everything in the apartment. Under the sink he found some rudimentary cleaning supplies. He started with the fridge, scrubbing out the near empty shelves and drawers. He put two mangoes inside and left the other two on the counter. Next he turned to the kitchen sink, then the oven. Before long, sweat was dripping from his forehead and running down his neck. He opened each of the cupboards, wiping out cobwebs and the crisp remains of several house flies. In one cupboard were two mugs. In another he found four bowls and two small plates. There were no utensils. He added them to his list and continued his purge.

Finn couldn’t remember the last time he had cleaned like this. He had never had a place of his own. At the compound, they had rotated cleaning and maintenance tasks. He seemed to frequently end up on the maintenance crew, despite being terrible at fixing anything. The “natural” products the brothers had approved were nothing compared to the half bottle of Mr. Clean at his disposal now.

He collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

***

Finn was totally exhausted. It had barely been a week since he started at the factory. The work was itself monotonous and mind-numbing, as he knew it would be the day he stepped inside the dank side-entrance to the factory. He was responsible for the series of motions that led to an expiry date stamp on each of the cardboard boxes destined to hold tubes of spearmint toothpaste. His co-workers were mostly middle-aged women and a few other young men like himself.

The break room was small and always cramped. There was always a line-up for the one microwave, so Finn quickly switched from reheated leftovers to sandwiches he could eat without having to wait. The room smelled like the mix of everyone’s reheated food. The chairs were stiff and worn and on the walls were faded health and safety posters from the 90s. The workers who had been there the longest were the most animated. They laughed and joked for the duration of their half hour break, teasing each other about their children or roguish partners.

On his second day, an older auntie introduced herself to him and said he reminded her of her son.

“He’s a good boy, my Tyler. Spends a bit too much time with his books, but it keeps him out of trouble. I made sure to read to him whenever I could when he was a baby, tried to get the habit going early for him, and I guess it stuck. Are you a reader too?”

“Sometimes,” said Finn.

“I’m Myrtle,” said Myrtle. “Been here 20 years, only called in sick once. My advice? Don’t call in sick. They tried to fire me, but I refused to take it. Showed up back here everyday for a week until they gave me my job back.”

“You can’t call in sick?”

“Not if you want to keep this job you can’t. They’ll replace you like that.” Myrtle snapped her fingers and shook her head. “The hardest part is the night shifts. I expect you’ll be saddled with those babies pretty soon here. They like to weed out the new ones, see who’s gonna stick. Are you gonna stick?”

Myrtle was right. At the end of the week, Finn was presented with the schedule for the following week. After one day off he would start a series of five night shifts.

He stared out the dirty bus window on the ride home, thinking about how he had ended up here and wondering where he was going to end up next. He felt out of control of his life, even though everything he had done in the past few months had been to take steps to get his control _back_. When his stop arrived, he got off the bus and walked the short distance back to his apartment. He ate the last of his mangoes in the dark, and lay on the mattress for a long time before he fell asleep.


	4. The Cafe

The first night shift was the longest shift of Finn’s life. He couldn’t get to sleep during the day, and just lay on his mattress with his eyes closed for hours. He took the bus and got there in record time, going against the flow of rush hour traffic. Halfway through the shift he could hardly keep his eyes open. The break room was quieter than usual, and he didn’t recognize anyone on the night shift. He brewed some bad coffee from the staff supply cupboard, wondering if the beans were older than he was as he gulped it down. The remainder of the shift crawled by. Finn couldn’t tear his eyes away from the digital clock mounted high on the warehouse wall. The other workers around him were quiet, and the warehouse was devoid of its usual chatter and laughter. Without the sounds of human connection happening, Finn felt like he was stranded on another planet. He wondered if any time had passed at all, what had come before he was working this shift, what would come after. His eyes burned and his head was pounding.

Eventually six o’clock rolled around. The bell sounded. Finn stumbled into the break room to grab his things. Myrtle was there, arriving for her day shift. She said something to Finn and gently touched his shoulder. He couldn’t process the words she said and just smiled back at her. He pulled on his hat and stepped out into the early morning. The sky was still dark, but was beginning to lighten in the east.

The bus finally arrived. Finn stumbled on, dropping his fare in and grabbing a transfer. His eyes were blurry. He walked to the back of the bus, and crashed into one of the back seats. The bus hadn’t even pulled away before he was asleep.

“Hey mister! Mister!”

Finn started, banging his head on the sill of the fogged bus window. His cheek was wet and he wiped it on his sleeve, looking around confused.

“Damnit!”

“Yeah, you were sound asleep. Figured you might have missed your stop.” The voice belonged to a hunched old woman with dark leathery skin and huge round-rimmed glasses with thick lenses. She was seated in the row across from her. On her lap she balanced a huge shopping bag, overflowing with what looked like pairs of earmuffs. She smiled at him, revealing several missing teeth.

Finn reached up and pressed the bar above his head. The bus slowed down and screeched to a halt. Finn bolted down the stairs and out the back door of the bus. It pulled away with a roar and a burst of exhaust before it occurred to him to thank the old woman. Finn looked around, and immediately realized he had no idea where he was. The neighbourhood was completely unfamiliar.

It was a different residential neighbourhood than the one he was still getting to know. The houses were larger and farther apart. The street was lined with large, old trees with thick trunks and robust branches heavy with dark green leaves. Many of the houses had green lawns, some manicured, others with a carefully sculpted wildness to them. The street was quiet after the bus pulled away and Finn found himself alone, blinking in the bright early morning sun.

The bus must have turned off the main street somewhere, because this street was too small, too quiet, too different than the one he knew. He realized he had no idea where the bus went after it left his neighbourhood. He still really didn’t understand much about the transit system in the suburbs. Finn began walking back in the direction the bus had come from. It was already warm. Finn could only really think about his bed, and he groaned aloud at the thought of how long it was going to be before he could collapse into it and sleep.

After a good fifteen minutes, in which Finn passed a half dozen well dressed young professionals walking a variety of exotic looking dogs, he came to the street the bus had turned from. It was still an area he didn’t recognize at all, and was lined with boutiques, furniture stores, and juiceries. Across the intersection was a morose and run-down looking bakery and café. Finn crossed the street and went in. A bell tinkled on the door as it slammed shut behind him. The café was dimly lit, despite its many windows and bright corner location, and had most of the blinds drawn against the sun. Finn approached the counter and ordered a small coffee with cream and sugar. The coffee was hot and surprisingly good. Finn ordered a croissant, which came steaming from a tray straight out of the oven.

Finn descended into a decrepit looking booth, ignoring the coffee stain on the table top. The café was deserted except for a table of three older women speaking hurriedly in Spanish, hunched over three steaming cups of coffee. The young dark-haired cashier served up three delicious smelling breakfast sandwiches to the three women and Finn’s stomach growled. He took another bite of the steaming croissant.

His back was to the door, but he heard the tinkling bell and harsh slam of it as it opened and closed. He heard a familiar voice conversing with the cashier, but for some reason he couldn’t quite place it. The owner of the voice burst into laughter and a chill ran through Finn’s spine. It couldn’t be him. Could it?

Finn turned slowly. “Poe Dameron?”

He had only whispered the name, but the man spun around, surprise etched onto his face. The surprise transformed into recognition and something else. Before Finn knew what was happening, he had stood up, and the man was embracing him in an enormous hug. His arms were warm and strong, grasping him tightly, as though he might evaporate at any moment.

“Finn!” he exclaimed. “You wouldn’t believe it but I was just wondering about you. What are you doing here?”

Finn grinned sheepishly. His face felt hot and the sensation of being held in this man’s arms kept him frozen for a moment. “I – I’m actually kind of lost,” he stammered, “I missed my stop on the bus and got off down the street from here.”

“Unbelievable! What are the chances you’d end up in my neighbourhood? In my favourite bakery? Damn!”

Finn shuffled his feet. “Yeah, pretty crazy,” he said.

“Well come on, how are you? How have you been? I know I said this already, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot, wondering how you’ve made out, where you’d ended up… Can I join you for a moment? I’m on my way to work but, hell, I can be a few minutes late for a man like you.”

Finn smiled uncertainly.

“Oh hell, I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped haven’t I? I’m sorry, sometimes I just get too excited and lose track of what’s proper, you know? Gone and put my damn foot in my mouth again. It must be hard for you, to think about that night, about what happened… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up out of the blue like that.”

Finn wanted to say something, but he felt rooted to the spot. The feeling of Poe’s arms was still so present, his warm body pressed against him, the scrape of his stubble against his cheek, the fresh smell of cucumber and eucalyptus from his wavy dark hair.

Poe’s expression faltered. Finn almost had to physically will himself to the present. “No, no, it’s not that, you don’t have to apologize. I mean… Yeah, it is had to think about, but I wouldn’t mind, catching up, you know.”

Poe grinned and grasped Finn’s shoulder. Finn shivered under his touch again. “It’s only, I’ve just come off the night shift, I’m pretty wiped right now.”

“Ah of course, of course. Night shift, man I know what those are like, I don’t know how you’re even standing up right now! Those things knock me horizontal for a straight 12 hours. Well, here, why don’t I give you my number?” Poe’s hand lingered on Finn’s shoulder.

“Yeah sure,” said Finn,” Er – wait, I don’t actually have a phone right now.”

“No phone? Hmm, okay, well here,” Poe rummaged around in his jeans pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper. “Can I borrow a pen?” he asked the cashier, who had been watching the whole exchange with curiosity. Poe scribbled something onto the scrap of paper and held it out to Finn. “There’s my address. It’s buzzer number 2. Drop by anytime, I’m on day shifts for the next couple of weeks, and I finish around six.”

Finn took the paper from his hand and stared at it. He looked into Finn’s kind brown eyes and smiled at him.

“Anytime, I mean it. If you need… I don’t know, anything really. I’d really like it if you’d drop by.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Finn. “Thanks.” Poe removed his hand from Finn’s shoulder, but Finn could still feel it’s heavy, reassuring, warm presence. Poe grabbed his coffee from the cashier, and after asking Finn where he lived, left him at the bus stop a few feet down the street.

Before he walked away, Poe gazed at him. “You’re a good man Finn.” He squeezed his shoulder again and left.


End file.
